


Finding a Common Tongue

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Competence Kink, Corsetry, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Language of Flowers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stripping, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Bull liked what he saw of the Ambassador - and certainly wouldn't mind seeing more. But if she wasn't interested...Turns out, they just didn't know each other's signals.Turns out, the curiosity wasn't one-sided.Turns out, that was a very clever tongue.I can't thank free_smarcher enough for such a fun set of prompts - and wintertree for amazing beta skills. This was part of the 2020 Black Emporium rare pair exchange - I encourage you to read the other amazing fics written this year!
Relationships: Iron Bull/Josephine Montilyet
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Finding a Common Tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinehutch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinehutch/gifts).



Bull smiled at her. He’d seen how she’d looked at him — wasn’t the first time. “What can I do for you, Ambassador?”

There was a faint flush to her cheeks as she tucked a rogue lock of hair behind her ear. “I needed to speak to you about the latest guests, The Iron Bull. There is…” She paused when he raised his hand.

“Bull’s fine,” he reassured her. “I don’t mind. But you were saying?”

He watched as she got up from her desk and swished across the room she’d claimed as her office. The way her hips swayed beneath the satin — he focused on the woman, not the very fine ass.

“Their conduct has been terrible. Truly awful. Despite that, the Inquisitor cannot risk insulting them by publicly decrying their actions. That means the Inquisition needs to be above the fray, and yet it is equally damaging for the insult to go unacknowledged.”

He chuckled and leaned against the wall. “So you need someone who isn’t officially a member of the Inquisition, but affiliated closely enough that the common folk would know they wouldn’t do something without working with you, to beat seven kinds of shit out of them.”

One hand flew to her lips. “I would never suggest such a thing! However, if it were to happen…” Josephine’s eyes twinkled.

“Someone like a stubborn, common ‘ox’ who doesn’t care about fripperies and has more muscles than brains?”

“You do _not!”_

He grinned at her, more warmed by the instinctive defense than he’d like to admit. He tried to be noticed, but he hadn’t realized she’d _noticed._ Instead of answering, he put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly as she glared at him.

“Easy, Ambassador, I know. But _they_ don’t. I’ve got it.”

She sighed deeply as that rogue lock of hair fell down again. Bull lifted his hand to tuck it back again, caressing the curve of her ear as he did so. He watched as the flush deepened slightly, but there was no other reaction. Maybe he’d read her wrong.

“I’ll be there,” he said briskly. “I’ll even polish up my pauldron, or find fancier pants.”

“Oh, thank you. We have a formal dinner tonight, in fact. I’m certain he’ll make...comments again.” Even with her skill at controlling her voice, disgust crept out. “You’ll see.”

“I’ve got it,” he said again. With a nod of his head, he turned and walked back out. Looks like it was time to find a tailor. He could use a new pair of pants anyway — the ones he was wearing were a bit too shabby for what the Inquisition had become.

**

Bull chose to watch from a shadow he’d spotted and checked for assassins as the Great Hall filled. It didn’t take long to realize who exactly the Ambassador was having issues with — at least, once he’d been able to blink the absolute fucking _vision_ she’d become between her usual elegance and...and.. _this. Down,_ he told himself, _she’s not interested._ He wasn’t here for that, even if her dress hung off the shoulders and implied it should hang off even more, and swept in and out again to caress both waist and hips before swirling to the floor. Her hair was all pinned up in some arrangement decorated with graceful white flowers, and she _glowed_ between the crimson of the shimmering gown and the white and crystal accents.

 _Not why you’re here._ He watched the various nobles, since only a noble would be causing this sort of problem. Who, though? The Orlesians had been here for a few weeks, long enough for two to fall into a bed with — that was fun, he loved listening to them pant filth in his ear as they lost all their careful masks. Not them. There was a Ferelden Bann or something, but _she_ was focused on the Orlesians and making nice with Leliana, nothing else. That was normal diplomacy. A few Antivans — he’d trust Josephine to manage them blindfolded — and a pair of Nevarrans in their own weird outfits.

_Huh. Gotcha._

One of the men draped himself closer to the Ambassador than she wanted, but politeness kept her from doing anything but flickering her fan in front of her face as her eyes wandered the Hall. His eye filled with red and he growled.

“Chief?”

Bull looked into his blind spot to see Krem, of course. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping you from doing something stupid.”

He’d growl again, but his lieutenant was probably right. He’d even found a nice top to wear and leather breeches that wouldn’t stick out too much, a sword at his hip. He considered, and nodded.

“The Nevarran. You’ll know. As soon as he leaves the Hall — nothing permanent.” He surrendered the beating the man deserved, knowing his own anger had just crept up past what he should handle when he didn’t need to.

“Got it. Then you can take care of Lady Montiliyet.”

His hormones suggested just how he _should_ take care of her before he reminded himself she didn’t want that. It was still a good suggestion. He was the Captain, he could stay here. “Yeah,” he agreed, then pulled a bright crimson flower from the nearest arrangement. It would match her dress, and that mattered for the idea that just came to him.

She might kill him, but that would be later. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt that much. He broke off the stem to the right length, then paced his way forward. All grey and with a rather distinguished black suit of pants _and_ buttoned jacket, it would take more than a few minutes for most people to notice.

Josephine did first. Her eyes brightened, and he growled again at the relief he saw in the set of her shoulders and the way her dimple almost showed in half a smile.

“Tesoro,” he rumbled at _just_ the tone he knew would set most hearts aflutter. “I love the dress.” He tucked the flower into her hair, letting his hand linger possessively. The man sputtered. He placed himself at an angle to be able to watch out of his good eye. “You saved me the first dance, I hope?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly and she flashed him a genuine smile. “Of course. But here, you should keep this.” Gloves that laced up past her elbow fumbled slightly at her hair. They must have been sewn a little too stiff for such delicate work, so Bull helped remove that very flower along with a carefully selected hairpin, and she stuck it to his chest. The lock that refused to be tamed slipped down and brushed her temple, making her even sexier than she was already.

“Excuse us,” Bull said to the Nevarran, and escorted her away. He knew there _was_ a ‘language’ of flowers, so whatever they’d done must have meant something as the man paled, then reddened, then paled again. He’d not bothered to learn it, since his interactions with nobility were contracts and sex.

“Do you know the dance?”

“I can manage,” he murmured back in just as low a tone, one hand holding hers and the other resting on her waist. She shifted slightly, her own free hand coming to lay on his bicep. “I’ll follow your lead.”

She smiled up at him again as the music shifted into the new tune. Bull knew the basic steps, but he didn’t mind letting her set the pace. She led with delicate touches, a shift of her weight, the brush of her hip against his thigh, or even the way her head shifted just before the next beat in the music. They might not be the finest pair of dancers, but he appreciated her subtlety.

“You dance remarkably well,” Josephine smiled up at him.

He chuckled. “I’ve learned a few things. You pick them up.”

“So I see.”

“Speaking of seeing,” he took the lead in the conversation as he spun her the same as the other pairs were doing, “I take it he’s your problem?”

She sighed. He stayed focused on the eyes that lost some of their sparkle, rather than the shifting breasts — very nice breasts — below them. “You could say that, yes. You could also say he’s a thoroughly detestable lecher who also manages to smell bad.”

Bull’s eye widened slightly. Her fingers had tightened on his, too — he’d really gotten under her skin. Rage pumped through his blood. Yeah, maybe it was a good thing Krem had shown up and taken the beating away from him. “He won’t bother you again,” he promised.

When the dance ended, he turned to see said lecher standing between them and the table.

“Excuse us,” Bull said.

The man puffed up — all the way to Bull’s shoulder. “You should excuse yourself, interrupting an important conversation just so you could attempt to parade your dominan-ergh!”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off as Bull grabbed him by the back of the neck and squeezed enough to cut off some of his air with a thumb. There were advantages to being that much larger than most people, and this Nevarran was no warrior. “You know,” he said conversationally as the man turned interesting colors, “if I was going to parade anything, it would be the beautiful woman next to me. But I don’t, because I don’t need to parade shit. I bet you’ve got somewhere else to be, after you apologize to her.”

The Nevarran glared, and Bull leaned closer. His voice lowered, even if he kept the same casual tone. “I also bet I can shatter your spine if I squeeze hard enough. I’ve done it to a Vint once. Should we find out, or are you gonna say sorry and leave?”

The _need_ to feel bone cracking under his hands grew stronger, right up until he smelled something acrid. He let the man go, watched as he stammered something at a Josephine who was wide-eyed but composed, and then his eye followed as the man collected his companion and they fled. It wouldn’t help, because they were fleeing right into the waiting arms of the Chargers, but that just added a bit of zest to it all.

“Sorry,” he rumbled to the lady. “I could have handled that better.”

Her breath was still coming rapidly, but she gave him a game smile. “I knew what I was asking for, Bull. Thank you.”

Just in case, he stuck by her side, every inch the attentive — and large — lover he’d already presented himself to be. At least, that’s what he thought he’d done. “What does the flower mean, by the way?”

She giggled at him as he handed her a glass of wine.

“You don’t know?”

“It meant something he didn’t like, so I like it.”

Instead of answering, Josephine took a sip. “It’s somehow reassuring to know there are things you _don’t_ know.”

“So you’re not telling,” he chuckled and made a mental note. “Fair enough, I’ll ask nicely later.”

**

Her room was just as perfect a setting for her beauty as he’d seen, all warm colors and rich, soft fabrics. Pillows were piled on the window ledge to make a perfect place for a book or moment of contemplation, while a screened area gave her privacy to dress or bathe. A desk was covered in neatly stacked papers, seals, and a corked inkpot, and there were flowers in vases by her enormous four-poster bed, the desk, and a chaise.

“I should go,” he said after a moment. “No one’s going to bother you, and you don’t need me to stay.”

Her eyes flicked up, then down. “There’s no need to do so, if you don’t want to.”

Wait. _What_ was she saying? He looked at her more closely, but her eyes astutely avoided his.

“What do you want?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, Bull stepped close and tilted her chin up.

“What do you want?”

Josephine licked her lips when he asked the second time. “Company. And help — I don’t want to disturb my maid, and I assumed you were skilled at removing…”

He needed to take a breath. Or two. “Lady Montilyet, you’re beautiful — and have an impressive opinion of my self-control.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” she said.

Well, then. Maybe she _was_ interested. But he shook his head. “Say it straight, Lady.”

Her eyes darted down, then back up to his. “I...well, who _wouldn’t_ be curious?”

Bull leaned down to kiss her gently, then took careful steps forward, pushing her back until she was up against one of the posters of her bed. “So you want more, do you, Lady?”

“Only if you stop calling me Lady Montiliyet!”

“If that’s what you want, Princess, I can do that.” He stepped back and took one more long look at the dress that was destined for the floor. It deserved it. “Turn around.”

She did, and he trailed his fingers along her exposed spine. “I do anything you don’t like, you say ‘stop.’ I stop.”

“I...yes, I can do that.”

“Good, Princess.” He caressed the name he gave her, and moved his fingers to the back of her dress. The sash was easily removed and set aside, and then he went after the little buttons. Her corset still had a few inches available, but the dress sighed off to fall to her feet. He collected the sash again. “Hands over your head,” he said, using just his presence to back up his command.

When Josephine did so, he looped the sash around them for a quick knot, then pulled up to tie it off around one of the narrow carvings on the bedpost. She gasped, but didn’t protest. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear anything she said. Against the ivory of the corset, her skin glowed. It was rigid — no wonder she’d needed rescuing. Well, she was about to see just what she was getting herself into. Rather than untying it, his fingers caught the lacings at the center of her back, and tugged. She squeaked when the corset tightened rather than loosened, but didn’t protest as he kept pulling. It wasn’t the first corset he’d dealt with. Bull carefully worked up, and then down from the middle, keeping the tension steady. Another inch and a half closer, her breath was coming with a fair bit of effort, and he tied it off.

Josephine had tried to avoid eye contact earlier? That wouldn’t do, not for what he had in mind. He used just as gentle a touch to pull out each pin in her hair, making a pile of the pearl-headed sticks. Lock after lock fell down, almost to the small of her back. “I didn’t realize you had so much hair,” he said to her. “It’s beautiful. Can I braid it?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy. Well, she was used to a lot more space to draw a breath. Bull gathered her hair and tugged a little, encouraging her to rest her cheek against the bedpost. Then he started braiding. At the end, he tied it off with the corset lace. Then he tugged each lace again, pulling a little more slack out of the corset. Her fingers, over her head, clenched, but she didn’t say a word.

Then he released her hands, keeping the handy little sash in his belt.

“Do you want more?”

“Yes,” she said again, “I do. I want–”

“Don’t rush it,” he said, cutting her off. He guided her hands behind her. The gloves really _were_ something — she must have had her maid help her into all of this. The satin laces started at the inside of her wrist and went up to tie off at her elbows. Well, that was easy enough to work with. 

A quick moment, and he’d untied the left bow enough to loop it into the lacings at her right wrist, then tied it off again. Once done, he moved to her other wrist. Her palms weren’t quite against her elbows, but close. It was light, easy, comfortable — and if she’d not lost most of the mobility in her fingers to the gloves, it would have been simplicity itself to get out of it.

“Turn around and let me look at you,” he said.

She did, and he let his eyes linger on more than the very shapely rear he’d been working above. The corset was low: especially with how much he’d tightened it, Josephine’s breasts were almost spilling over the top of it, shifting with each shallow breath. Moles speckled not just her face and neck, but there was one on the inside of her left breast that interested him. The swell of her hips was accentuated by the corset, and her legs ran down to where her heels laced up above each ankle. It was a silly Orlesian fashion, but he liked what it did to her calves. 

After a lengthy inspection, he took her gaze again. She tried to look away and then discovered just why he’d asked to braid her hair: he’d braided it _into_ the corset lacings, keeping her head pointed up enough that she had to look him in the eye.

“Very nice, Princess. Very nice indeed.”

“I’m at a bit of a disadvantage,” she said back. “You’re still in formal dress.”

 _There_ was the tart voice he’d hoped to hear. His trick with her hair worked. He pretended to consider, then stepped back to sit on the chaise. “You’d better fix that, then.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “But I– you–”

“You’ve got a clever tongue, I’m sure you can come up with something,” he challenged. Her eyes widened, then narrowed.

There was something about a woman with confidence, Bull considered as he watched what the Ambassador would do next. “You never told me about the flowers,” he prompted from his comfortable spot on the chaise. One arm he tossed up along the back while the other rested easily in his lap.

There was _also_ something about watching a partner decide just how deep they wanted to go that got him going. His prompt was to give her something to consider while the rest of her mind worked on the real question. Bull watched as she tried to drop her head again, only to be stopped by her hair braided into the corset lacings. He knew his ropes, and he knew just how much the body could affect the mind. Between corset and braid, he’d _forced_ her to stand straight and confident. Then her lovely eyes met his, and it was _he_ who needed a moment to breathe.

One step after another, hips swaying as each footstep clicked closer, she held his eyes. _Damn._ Now he was realizing just how warm this jacket was, even if it had been useful earlier.

“You truly don’t know the language of flowers?” Bull shook his head at her question, her accent stronger than ever. Her eyes held him, even as her breasts tried to claim his attention. “That red, especially as a carnation, is only meant for relations. _Intimate_ ones. To give one is an offer. To return it…”

He chuckled. “Trust me, Princess, I’m not objecting.” Trust him to finally make an offer that he’d not even realized, right as he’d decided she wasn’t interested. Wait — was _that_ why she’d never responded? Were they talking past each other all that time?

Then she was right there between his legs, eyes still level with his. Bull sat, feeling the heat from her and that mix of her subtly sharp perfume made sharper with her desire. She was interested, then — very, very interested.

This might be a dance where he led, but it was up to her how to follow. He watched her as she struggled to move her head or bend over until her lips managed to brush his. It was Josephine who deepened the kiss. There was plenty of passion in there, hiding behind her sweet, diplomatic front. Then he took control again, his hand on her ass holding her against him.

“My shirt.”

Could she even do this? Her eyes were even darker, but she bent her knees until she could reach the first button. The tailor had made it a little loose, the button hole a little large, on request. He could feel her tongue and teeth against the button and fabric, persuading it to angle through and release. It was even more clever than he’d thought. Sinking lower, she went for the next, then was kneeling between his legs as she worked on the last three.

“I’m afraid the rest is up to you.” Her eyes flicked from his crotch back up.

Oh, yeah, she was interested. Bull shifted his shoulders, letting his muscles ripple the scars as he shrugged out of the jacket. “Just how deep do you want to go?”

Josephine licked her lips, then tossed her head further back. “I’m Antivan, if you had forgotten. My milk tongue was passion and the sea.”

“Oh, I _like_ that. I like that a lot. Are you wet yet, Princess?”

Her cheekbones reddened, but she didn’t look down — even though at this point, she could have - to come face to crotch, but still. “I’ve only gotten my toes in the water so far.”

Bull trailed his fingers across her cheek, soft with youth as well as a rigorous routine. The moles just added character, he thought, even as he admired the deep amber of her skin. Then he let them slide down the rapid pulse in her neck to the breasts that had to heave with each shallow, restricted breath. One thumb slid along the edge of her corset, and a dark nipple sprang free, almost as dark as her moles. Josephine bit her lower lip, but a moan still came out. He played with the skin around it a little more, watching as her breath kept coming faster.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No!” Her fingers fluttered behind her back, able to touch the ribbons that held her arms bound without being able to grasp them enough to pull. “No,” she said again, “absolutely no–” A gasp interrupted her as his thumb ran across the nipple itself, already hard.

“No, I didn’t think so.”

Whatever else the night had for them, it wasn’t going to end _now._

By the time Bull bent her over the desk, both breasts had gotten their share of attention, as had the amazing collarbones above them. A love bite bloomed on one when he got a bit carried away by her asking for more, but he’d kept some control. He’d focused on a spot that her usual dresses could cover. Her underthings, the layers of lace complimenting her corset, had been discarded next to the chaise.

“Spread your legs nice and wide. You wanted it all, didn’t you?”

Once Josephine did, he knelt to untie the laces of her heels and unwrap the satin enough to re-tie it around the legs of the desk as well, holding her there. For the first time, she was actually bound _to_ something. Well, for longer than just to tighten her corset and remind her what she was getting into. She was in deep now.

He ran his thumb along her clit to watch her squirm - or at least try to. He liked watching her ass shake, so he did it again. It was far from the first time he’d had a human lover: he knew how big he was, and how to make sure she was ready because he sure as fuck was. 

One finger slid in, then a second as he stretched her gently. “You’re not in the shallows any longer, Princess,” Bull murmured in her ear. “How much deeper do you want to go?”

She clenched around his fingers as her body answered before her mind could find its words. “Deeper,” she finally gasped, “please.”

Knowing just what she’d asked for with that flower made him more certain. Besides, Josephine would have been able to hear anything she wanted about his exploits. He stopped every time he watched her eyelashes flutter shut until she was whimpering and grinding against the wooden edge of her desk. Only then did he brace one hand right in front of her face, slick himself down with the fingers that had been inside her, and slowly push in. Like this, he could watch her eyes, her lips — any hint of pain, and he’d stop.

 _Fuck_ she was tight, but Bull heard her sigh and felt her relax around him. “That’s it, Princess. Just like that.”

**

After, he unbraided her hair and unlaced her corset, leaving her gloves for last as he knelt to free her from her shoes. He picked her up and carried her to the bath — it was cool, but there was a cloth he could wet and wipe them both down. Josephine curled into his chest and kissed the nasty scar he’d gotten from a Vint way back when.

“Why didn’t we talk about flowers sooner? I wasted so much time thinking I wasn’t interesting to you.”

He chuckled at the faint slur in her voice and rinsed out the cloth before draping it to dry. “I didn’t think to ask — still didn’t until afterward. It’s the first time I’ve been glad for a noble who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Oh, and trust me: you’re interesting alright.”

He lifted her up and laid her face-down on her bed so he could untie and pull off her gloves. He glanced at her eyes, still dark and unfocused. She was someone who came back to ground slowly, then.

“I should ask for your assistance more often. What happened to him? Nothing...permanent?”

It would have been, if Krem hadn’t reminded him to keep control. “Nah, Princess,” Bull told the sparkling mind behind the sexy, if limp, body. “He’ll be a bit more than bruised, body and pride both. But what can he do? Admit a couple mercs pounded on him because he kept pushing when the Inquisition’s chief diplomat had made her disinterest clear?”

“He will, though.” Concern trickled through her voice, and he lay next to her so he could drape an arm around her to try keep her calm. Her voice still sped up. “He will. I should have said, he cannot stand a blow to his pride. Your Chargers are–”

“In danger?” Bull finished her question in his own, easy tempo. “We’re used to that, and Krem was already in the Hall last night.” Dawn was warming up the curtains past her bed. “Tell you what, Lady Montiliyet.” Josephine rolled over and propped herself up on one arm when he switched to her title rather than the pet name he’d used while they were playing. “I’ll talk to the Boss after lunch — or you can. There’s plenty the Chargers can do for the Inquisition. He messes with the boys while they’re out doing the Inquisition’s work, he’ll have bought himself a world of hurt.”

Josephine smiled as her eyes lit up. Well, maybe it wouldn’t take her that long to come back, though her body was mostly still, cuddled against him. This might be the first time he’d seen her talking without her hands being part of the conversation. “Yes, that I can do — and his ways have earned him enemies as well. If he tries, he will not succeed.”

More than that, Bull guessed after last night that anyone who reached out to ally with Lord Leer would be someone worth keeping an eye on. He’d mention it to Red - the spymaster would be _very_ interested in that. Though he really should go, he let himself run a hand down her hip and ass again, squeezing her a little closer.

“You know I’m here anytime you need me, Princess.”

She licked her lips, but after a night of not being able to, she didn’t look away. “And if I didn’t need you?”

His cock reacted right up until he reminded himself of the realities of fucking a human. “Give yourself a day or two to recover,” he said even as he kept petting her. “Then, if you’re still curious...send me a whole bouquet. I’ve got a lot of learning to do.”


End file.
